


Prophy

by RamblingRobin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Poly, Psychic Abilities, Rape, S&M, Self-Harm, Slash, Supernatural Elements, Threesome - M/M/M, moresome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:37:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2259660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamblingRobin/pseuds/RamblingRobin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathanial Miklas has an interesting side-job. He's an empath who can untangle what's going on under the surface people show the world. His own world is finally carefully arranged how he wants it, safe and contained. But things are spiraling out of his control and he needs all the help he can get, whether he thinks he needs it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Call Me Mick

 

 **This story may contain triggers. For example, triggers for rape, abuse, and self-harm can be found in various chapters to various degrees. Trigger warnings will be posted at the beginning of the chapter.** If you are in trouble, you aren't alone. There are people out there who care about you and want you to be safe. There are many local and national organizations waiting to help. If you need them, a simple internet search is all you need to find many of them. Be safe. I hope you like my story and don't mind swearing... lots and lots of swearing.

 

“Prophylaxis: measures designed to preserve health and prevent the spread of disease” -Merriam Webster Dictionary

 

 

_content/trigger warnings: abuse of a minor, implied rape of a minor, attempted suicide_

I stood when I heard the knock at the hotel-room door.

“Be right there,” I called and shrugged into my jacket.

I checked myself in the mirror on the way to the door. My plain brown hair was slicked back from my face and forced to stay there with gel. I brushed a piece of lint from my dress shirt. I liked this shirt, it was a nice shade of eggplant. It was just a little too wild to wear to work back at home. I didn't see any lint-bunnies clinging to my slacks, so I slipped on my boots and laced them up. Dress shoes might have looked snazzier with the outfit, but I didn't know what kind of tromping around I might have to do for this job. The clients would probably get all weird and secretive and take me out to an abandoned warehouse or something. No need to scuff up any fancy kicks.

I opened the room door without looking through the peep-hole. I wouldn't recognize anyone coming to pick me up anyway. I fought the urge to take a step back when I saw the man waiting for me. He was leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed over his chest. His dark hair hung in his eyes, and he shook it out of his face as he straightened. He was much bigger than me, but that was nothing new. My skinny ass was five foot eight, maybe five nine in these boots. I was used to looking up at most men. What made me want to back away was the cloud of pissed-off that radiated from him as soon as he saw me.

“Mick Williams?” He asked, voice tight but polite.

“That's me,” I said happily.

I couldn't help my excessive cheerfulness. It was self-defense.

He raised an eyebrow. “Right. Well, I'm here to take you to meet the... to the meeting-place.”

Oooh, he'd almost slipped there. I almost got to find out how big the big-wig was that needed my services.

“Sounds good.” I beamed and followed him out of the building into the dark parking lot. “My car is right over there,” I said to my tall, dark, and grouchy companion. “Tell me what you're driving so I can follow you.”

He shook his head. “I'll drive.”

“That's ok. I can drive. I'll just follow you. What color is your car?” I said hopefully.

I didn't want to be stuck in an enclosed space with him and I didn't want to have to rely on someone else to get me back to the hotel after I finished the job.

A growl rumbled up in his chest. “I'll drive,” he said again.

I fought a sigh. “I guess you'll be driving then.”

He walked off without another word. I followed obediently. At least the view was nice. My driver had dark jeans that accentuated his long legs and showed off a very tempting ass. What can I say, I like good butts and I cannot lie. When he glanced back at me I quickly shifted my gaze and tried to look innocent. No ogling here, no sirree. My grin was honest when we got to the car.

“This is your car?” I asked.

I didn't know a lot about cars, but I knew old Mustangs were yummy. This one was definitely a pretty one.

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Shiny,” I said and slid into my seat. I clicked my seat-belt and smiled as we headed out of the parking lot. “May I crack a window?” I asked, keeping my voice fiercely friendly.

He shot me a look. “It's fifty degrees outside.”

“Yeah, it's just... you don't seem very happy and it's getting a little thick in here.” I rubbed my palms on my pants-legs. “Please?”

He sighed. “Whatever, just don't bitch at me when you freeze.”

“Thanks. I promise to hold back my bitching,” I said and cranked down the window a few inches.

The cool air blew in, smelling of damp earth and things wanting to grow. I loved the spring. It was cool tonight, but tomorrow was supposed to be warmer. When I got home, I could open all the windows in my house and let the fresh-air blow through. After about fifteen minutes we pulled up in front of a warehouse in an industrial area. Yep, I totally called it.

The man next to me cut the engine and tucked the keys in his pocket, but didn't move to get out. There was a flood-light on the building, so I could see him easily. When he pushed his hair out of his face I noticed his eyes for the first time. They were a mossy hazel, with mahogany brown around the pupil that was the same shade as his hair. The brown by his pupils spiked out to a soft green. They were lovely. I wondered if his eyes turned more green or brown when the change was on him.

The brown color was the same as the eyes of a labrador I'd had when I was a kid, my sister had named him Chewbacca. He'd been a big sweetie-pie. My sister liked to dress him up and put tiaras on him. He'd just lay there, content that he was getting attention. I doubted this guy had a labrador personality.

His eyes flashed. “Keep your head down when we go in. Please refrain from making eye contact with anyone but me or the person who is speaking to you.” This sounded like a rehearsed speech. I wondered if he'd given it before. He continued. “Should anyone become agitated, please avoid fast movements or running. If I step in front of you, please stay behind me until the situation is resolved. We don't anticipate any problems, but precautions have been taken to ensure your safety and the safety of others. Please follow all directions I give you immediately. Do you understand, Mr. Williams?”

I grinned and nodded. “You bet, and please, call me Mick.”

He nodded and got out of the car. I hopped out of my side after I rolled the window back up. I followed him to a big metal door that opened before we reached it. There were probably twenty or thirty people inside. They parted like the red-sea when we went in and we walked down the narrow path they'd opened up. They fell in behind us, blocking the way to the door.

The skin on the back of my neck prickled. A young man with spiky blond hair leaned toward me as I passed. I could feel his breath on my ear as he did what could only be described as sniffing me. I jerked, trying to lean away from him, but the people on the other side of me were too close. My escort turned to see why I wasn't still hot on his heels. His eyes narrowed on blondie, who was still leaning toward me. He cuffed the young man upside the head, knocking him to the floor.

“Control yourself, Jamie,” he growled.

The blond hung his head and said nothing. My pretty-eyed protector jerked his head toward a door at the back of the room.

“Let's go.”

I followed him meekly. Christ, I hated working with werewolves.

 

I could breathe a little easier when we got into the small office past the door. There were only a handful of people inside, including a girl sitting stiffly on a chair in the middle of the room. The door clicked shut behind me, I made myself not look at it longingly. I felt like a hen in a fox-house. Do they have those? Every eye on me was predatory.

I kept my head down, as instructed, as I was led to the girl in the chair. A big man was standing behind her. His skin was a deep brown, black hair cropped close to his head. The darkness of his skin highlighted his light brown eyes, I’d never seen eyes that had streaks of beige before. I tried not to stare. Even if he weren’t a werewolf, the muscles straining under the fabric of her shirt would have been enough to tear me in half. He exuded protectiveness. Her father, I thought.

“Mr. Williams, thank you for agreeing to help us. I'm Saul Thorpe.” The big man said, voice strong and booming.

As if I could refuse.

When the biggest wolf-pack in the Midwest wants you to come to Chicago and do a job you don't say no, not if you know what's good for you. And I do, indeed, know what's good for me, most of the time.

“My pleasure. I hope I can be of assistance.” I said politely.

A few of the others in the room whispered amongst themselves. Thorpe's eyes narrowed and the room fell deathly silent. If this wasn't the alpha of the pack I would eat my pretty purple shirt. Great, and this was his daughter. I guessed I'd just better not screw this up, then. I liked my guts on my inside, not hanging from the light fixtures, thank you very much.

“This is my daughter, Christina. She’s the one I contacted you about.” He said more softly.

The worry and affection fell from him to wrap around the girl.

“Has anything changed since you sent me the information?” I asked.

I'd had them send me a detailed description of the situation.

He shook his head sadly. “Nothing, she still won't talk. We've tried a few more psychiatrists and a witch and nothing's helped.”

I nodded. “Alright.”

I pulled a little bottle of hand-sanitizer out of my pocket and shot some into my palm, rubbing my hands thoroughly. Ah, that felt a little better. I stepped in front of the girl and knelt on the carpet in front of her feet.

“Everyone needs to be away from me at least four big steps.” Everyone that was near stepped back, except her father. I looked up at him, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. “You too, please, Mr. Thorpe. It'll be ok. I promise.”

He reluctantly stepped away from his child, though it was clearly a struggle. A graceful redheaded woman I assumed was his wife and the girl's mother put an arm around his waist. It looked and felt like a loving family, I pushed down a little zing of jealousy. I turned my attention back to the girl in front of me. If it was all ‘Leave it to Beaver’ at their house, then why was this girl not speaking anymore?

I looked at Christina. I knew from the information they'd sent that she was thirteen, but she looked older. She was a pretty girl, with long wavy hair held away from her face with sparkly clips and big brown eyes that looked so sad it yanked at my heart. Before this she'd apparently been a happy friendly girl, if a bit silly. She had friends, but no boyfriend that the family knew about. She liked hanging out at the mall and going to movies. She had a pet ferret named Beezle. In parentheses the report added that she liked to call him Adorabeezle the Weasel. It was fucking cute.

Three months earlier, she'd locked herself in the bathroom, taken a silver knife, and slashed her wrists. They'd found her before she'd had a chance to lose much blood. Her mother had been able to smell the blood from downstairs. Christina hadn't spoken a word since. The psychiatrists and therapists couldn't crack her. The witches said it wasn't a spell.

So, they'd called me.

I really wasn't _just_ here because the Chicago Wolf-pack would chew me up and spit me out if I refused. I was a sucker for kids.

Her hands sat limply on her thighs. I gently touched her knee and then pulled my hand back when she looked at me. Her pretty chocolate brown eyes were wide and she was scared. I could feel her fear biting at my fingers where I'd touched her.

“Christina?” I asked. But no, that wasn't right. That wasn't what people called her. “Chrissy?”

She blinked at me.

“I'm Mick, honey. I want to help you,” I said and held her eyes. “Your Mom and Daddy are right here and they won't let anything happen to you either.”

I felt her anxiety flare. Was she scared of her mother or father? That didn't feel right.

“I just need to hold your hand, ok? Everything's going to be alright, I promise,” I said and slid both my hands into her cool ones.

Her feelings hit me like a fist. It was a tangled mess of hot purples and reds. Ouch. I was going to need ibuprofen and an ice-pack after this one. I closed my eyes and found a loose thread to tug. It unwound hesitantly. I saw a flash of a girl's laughing face I didn't recognize. Embarrassment hit me, but it wasn't mine.

This wasn't the problem. I let the thread go, but didn't allow it to tangle up again. I pulled another, this was young lust over some boy with soft eyes and dark lashes. I let it go. I teased free her fears, insecurities, and worries one by one. It was like unknotting a messy ball of frizzy yarn. When I loosened most of the knots there was a tight ball left in the center. Bingo.

I clenched my teeth to hold in a gasp as I freed the first knot. Terror. My stomach felt like ice. I didn't stop, I grabbed as many knotted threads as I could and yanked. I believed in pulling off the band-aid quick, get it over with. The tangled ball came loose and unraveled. Fear. Shame. Worry. Guilt. A need to protect. More shame and fear.

She wanted to protect her parents. Someone was threatening her parents.

Usually when I worked I’d get flashes of images and sometimes sound. I wished I didn't, they were rarely pleasant. I'd much rather just unravel the anxieties that were holding a person back and let them do their own self-analysis so they could move on. I thought I'd overdone it this time, though. I got a movie playing in my head, though the sound was sketchy. And I didn't even have any popcorn.

I saw Chrissy in a room, not her room, not her house. A man was looming over her, talking to her. His slimy intentions were oozing all over. He spoke to her gently at first. She was shaking her head. From what I could hear he was trying to convince her of something. He called her father old and weak and she shook her head again.

The visual cut out and cut back in. A different room, same house. It must have been a different day, Chrissy was wearing different clothes, a cute skirt with a ruffle at the bottom. She was angry, shouting at the man. He was fighting to keep his voice low and reasonable. She turned on her heel and stomped toward the door. His hand shot out and snagged her wrist, his patience gone. He shouted something at her and threw her to the floor. He was on her before she could get back up. She screamed but he smacked one hand over her mouth. He used the other to shove her skirt up and yank at her panties. He wedged a knee between her thighs and I was happy when the visual cut out for good. Watching some sick fuck rape a kid was not my idea of a good time.

My normal vision came back to me as I fell away from Chrissy. My head was pounding. I rolled over to my hands and knees and puked right onto the carpet. Lovely. I sat back on my knees and took deep breaths. I struggled to stand, then felt myself being propelled upward by a hand on my arm. I blinked dumbly at the guy who'd driven me here. From the corner of my eye I saw Mr. and Mrs. Thorpe hugging Chrissy.

She whimpered. “Daddy, I'm so sorry.”

My eyes were drawn to the people who had been sitting on a couch along one wall. They had stood. One in particular had my attentions. Oh yeah, I recognized _him_.

I looked him straight in the eye and pointed at him accusingly. “You dirty rapist piece of dog-shit!”

All eyes flew to the man. Chrissy burst into loud sobs. Shit got ugly after that.

 


	2. Don't Tease Horny Werewolves

 

We'd waited outside until things calmed down. If I'd had my little Kia my ass would have been out of there. I could fill everyone in on the details later. Preferably by phone or email. But no, my driver said wait, so we waited. The Thorpes finally came out. They had wiped most of the blood off themselves, which was thoughtful of them.

I reported my end of things, trying to be as detailed as possible. I really didn't want to have to go through it again later.

Apparently, the man I'd seen was Chrissy's second or third cousin. He was number two in the pack. He'd decided number one looked more appealing. He'd been planning to get Thorpe to stand down and hand over the reigns, by force if necessary. He wanted Chrissy to agree to be his mate to make his power-grab easier to accept by the rest of the pack. I had no idea if that would have flown, I didn't know what the age of consent was for mating in werewolf-land. Really, though, I didn't give a shit. That girl was thirteen, I'd been in her head and it was the mind of a thirteen year-old. The idea of that child having to be the mate of a grown man was icky as hell.

He'd threatened Chrissy, trying to get her to agree. She had kept quiet at first, but when she had tried to leave in the last vision she had told him that she was going straight to her mom about the whole thing. In the end he raped her and threatened to kill her parents while she was watching if she said anything or didn't go along. What a bastard. I took some satisfaction in the fact that he would be paying dearly for his actions, they had pulled a few strips off him but had left him alive in the warehouse.

Chrissy would be ok, too. My untangling hadn't just let us find out about the problem. I'd soothed her psyche, I guess is the best way to put it. Her thinking would be clear, not muddled with fear and shame. She still had a lot of things to work through, but she could do it now with a calm mind.

The Thorpes had thanked me vigorously and promised me a fat bonus. Shiny.

I convinced my driver to stop at a convenience store on the way back to the hotel. I snagged a pop, some plastic zip-locks, and ibuprofen. I could use the plastic bags to make an ice-pack back at the hotel. I'd take the ibuprofen right away. I walked back to the car and plunked into the front passenger seat. I held the soda between my knees as I fought desperately with the packaging on the pills. It shouldn't take the jaws of life to free a couple of painkillers from their little plastic prison. The package was suddenly not in my hands. I looked at the man behind the wheel. He'd snagged the pills away from me and fiddled with the package for a moment before handing it back. Yay, the pills were free. I slugged them back with my pop and then rested the cool drink against my forehead.

The engine turned over and we backed out of the parking spot.

"You alright now?" He asked me, keeping his eyes on the road.

I leaned my head back onto the head-rest and let my eyes half-close. "Peachy-keen, Jelly-bean."

That was less than true. I felt drained and hungover, not just from untangling Chrissy. The emotional fallout had been harsh. Emotions had run high and they'd gotten all over me. I hoped my magic combo of detergent and borax could get the mess out of my favorite shirt. I didn't want to feel wild wolfy emotions everytime I put it on.

I felt physically hungover, too, with an aching head that felt wrapped in cotton. Ibuprofen, a shower, clean clothes, and an ice bag should help.

My shoulder hurt like a bitch, too, but I knew I was lucky as hell that was my only physical injury. The sore shoulder was a direct result of the man sitting next to me grabbing my arm and practically flinging me behind him when the office had erupted into violent growls and gnashing teeth. He'd dragged me out of the room and out of the building. The last thing I'd seen was a spray of blood coming from the tangle of bodies that had jumped on the man I'd seen attacking Chrissy in the vision.

My driver snorted and glanced at me, but didn't say anything. At least he wasn't stinking the car up with his grumpies anymore.

"Anyway, thanks for not letting anyone chew on me back there." I said. See? I could be nice.

"It's my job," he said gruffly. "Although it would have been a little easier if you hadn't stared that asshole in the eye and called him out. Did you want him to take a bite out of you?"

"Nope, I'm just really good at being an idiot," I said dryly. "I even practice in front of a mirror sometimes."

"I can tell, you've got it down pat." He smirked, then frowned. "Although, really, they shouldn't have brought in someone as young as you. It's not right to put a kid in danger. Christina's presence couldn't be avoided, but they shouldn't have called you in with just me as a guard." There was a hint of the anger that had been there on the ride to the warehouse. Was that why he'd been pissed? He thought he was taking a baby into a wolf-den?

I sighed. Here we go. "How old do you think I am?"

He glanced at me. "Well, can you even get into a real bar without a fake ID?"

"Yes." I answered him, scowling. "I can. Especially since I'm thirty."

"Bullshit, shorty." He snapped. "There's no way you're older than me, and I'm twenty-four."

"Sorry, my mommy and daddy were getting busy to make me six years before your mommy and daddy were getting busy to make you." I sighed. "And was the short jab really necessary? I'm five eight, hardly ready to help Dorothy in Munchkinland."

He shot me a look with a raised brow. "You're serious."

"As a heart attack." I said.

"Jeeze, I wouldn't have smacked Jamie so hard if I'd known you weren't a kid." He grumbled.

"Oh yeah, the guy who couldn't keep his nose to himself." I remembered. "What the hell was he doing anyway."

"He's young, he doesn't have the best control of his instincts. He was interested in your smell and couldn't hold back." He shrugged.

"Next time I'll be sure to roll in something unpleasant before I go play with werewolves." I took another swig of my pop. "I wonder why he thought it was interesting."

I saw my escort stiffen before I felt the awkward discomfort. Hmm, must be some embarrassing werewolf thing. I let it drop.

"So, what's your name?" I asked him. "Or should I just call you 'Driving Guy'?"

He looked at me sharply, then back to the road. "Actually, that is my name."

It was my turn to snort. "Your name is Driving Guy?"

He made a face. "Just Guy. My name is Guy."

I blame my headache and the fading adrenalin from the excitement at the warehouse for my next comment. "Your name is actually Guy? Sounds like a porn name."

He glared at me. "Ok, Mick." He drew out my name suggestively. "Like that's not a name for cheap pornos."

He actually wasn't too far off the mark. Mick Williams wasn't a porn name, but it was kind of like a stage name for me. I'd chosen Mick because my real last name is Miklas. Mick was a nickname I was used to. I thought it would be good to pick a name that I'd answer to naturally. It's never good if someone calls your name and you don't respond. Looks fishy. I'd gotten Williams from the internet. I'd looked up the most common surnames in the U.S. Number one had been Smith. Yeah, no. What a cliche. The number two name had been Johnson. I'd rejected that because Mick Johnson totally did sound like a porn name. Number three was Williams. Sounded good to me. Mick Williams it was.

"Hey, my pornos are great." I said, feigning offense. "I won a porno Emmy last year. You're just jealous you only got honorable mention."

He rolled his eyes. "I guess I missed that one."

I didn't notice his hands tightening on the wheel or the growl in his voice. I was the worst empath ever.

"What did you win, best soundtrack?" he asked, sounding irritated.

We were pulling into the hotel parking lot as I grinned. "I gave the best blow-job," I couldn't stop myself from saying as I pushed the release button on my seat-belt.

We jerked into a parking spot. I opened my eyes and took the cool drink off my forehead. My headache was getting better, thank God. I suddenly realized that the feeling swirling around in the car wasn't fading grouchiness or embarrassment. What socked me in the gut when I sat up and looked at Guy was lust, and it wasn't coming from me. Fuck.

What the hell was I doing teasing a werewolf? Was I suicidal?

Then he was on me, leaning over the stick-shift and yanking me to him. His mouth caught mine, his tongue swooping in as I yelped in surprise. It slid against mine then tickled the roof of my mouth. His hand gripped the back of my neck, forcing the kiss deeper. He suddenly released my lips to drop nipping kisses across my jaw and down my throat. The nips got harder followed by his hot tongue to sooth them. Under different circumstances it would probably be nice, right now I was a little worried for my safety.

I awkwardly cleared my throat. "Guy... Guy!" His eyes flicked up to me. Well what do you know, they bled to green, not brown. No labradors here. "You gonna eat me, Guy?"

A growl rumbled in his chest. "You really smell good."

Well, that wasn't much of an answer. He continued his nibbling, his hand sliding up my leg then gripped my hip, holding me still. I fought back a moan as his other hand squeezed high on my thigh. I was drowning.

I grabbed his hair and tugged. "I'd rather you not bleed me, buddy."

His eyes came back to mine and he blinked stupidly. I watched some awareness seep back into them.

"We should have left the window open on the way back," he said, voice still growly. "You smell too goddamn good."

"Then let's air it out in here," I said, reaching behind me to yank the door handle. I fell without grace onto the concrete.

I scrambled to my feet, sparing a glance to Guy on his hands and knees across the front seats. I'd like to say that my stride was sure and strong as I made my way to the hotel's side door and inside to my room, but I think it was more like a scurry. I didn't look behind me for Guy, I was out of there.

I had just managed to slide my key-card into the slot on my door when he caught me. My card stayed in the slot as he spun me around and slammed me against the door.

"You shouldn't run from a predator," he growled as he pinned my hands above my head. My sore shoulder protested.

"It makes us want to chase you, catch you," he breathed as he leaned into me.

His lust swirled around me, making me pant. "I'll keep that in mind for the future. Thank you for the tip."

His thigh parted mine and pressed against me, making me moan. I could feel his erection at my hip and I knew he could feel mine. His eyes flashed green as he plundered my lips again. My eyes closed and I moaned into his mouth. His hands released my wrists and slid down my sides to grip my ass. He ground himself against me, making me gasp.

It wasn't until I felt his hands tugging my shirt out of my pants and fumbling with the buttons that I came back to myself. Firstly, we were in a hotel hallway, and I'm not an exhibitionist. Well, not usually. Secondly, I don't let people see me with my shirt off. It's just a thing I have, I have some... marks on me I don't let anyone see. It's sex with the lights off for me.

Guy trying to get my shirt off me in a well-lit hallway was as effective as a bucket of cold water.

"Guy, stop it." I tried to catch his roaming hands.

A nail scraped over a nipple and I arched against him. "Fuck!"

"Yeah," he said, "I'm trying." Then he nibbled my shoulder and kept working on my shirt.

"No, no. Stop it, goddammit." I yanked his hair again. It had gotten his attention last time. "I am not fucking you just because I smell like a goddamn chocolate-chip cookie to you or something!"

He blinked at me. "What?"

I reached behind me and got a hold on the key-card "Thanks very much for the escort and the help. But, you know, it's been a long day and I have to get up early in the morning." I yanked the key-card out and turned the knob, praying the little light would turn green. "Please tell your Alpha that I appreciate the work and hope he will think of me should he need the services of an empath in the future."

I felt the door give behind me. Success!

"I will be sure to look you up if I'm in Chicago again." I let the door open, keeping hold of the knob. I ducked backward and shifted my grip on the door. "Thanks again, you have a good night."

I slammed the door in his face and smacked the deadbolt home. Fuck, that was close. I had almost screwed some stranger in the hall of the Marriot, and I'm not sure if I would have survived the encounter. I jumped at a sudden banging on the door.

"Mick!"

Great, I had a sexually frustrated werewolf in my hall. He would probably have no problem busting that door into little toothpicks.

"Goodnight, Guy!" I backed toward the window, thinking I might be able to get out that way. "It was nice to meet you!"

There was another bang, which made me jump, then silence. I knew he was still there. I could feel his presence swirling. After what felt like an eternity, his presence finally retreated. I rubbed a hand over my face. Jesus fucking Christ on a crutch.

I checked the lock again and decided to clean up. Too many people's emotions were smeared all over me. I was also still painfully hard. Damn, Guy had been a hot son of a bitch. If only he weren't so, you know, able to kill me with a flick of his wrist. I might have let him jump my bones. No bone-jumping tonight, looked like it would be jerking off in the shower then watching bad hotel cable.

I stripped off my shirt, and pondered if I should move to a different room. I decided not to. Have I mentioned I'm an idiot? A little part of me kind of wanted Guy to come back and find me, as long as he promised not to eat me in anything but the euphemistic sense.

Yep, I'm definitely an idiot.

 

 


	3. Unfinished Business

 

When I was a kid, I loved going to the dentist. It's not because I was one of those annoying brats who never got cavities and liked to suck up to adults, either.

It's because our dentist's office was quiet. So, wonderfully quiet.

Maybe quiet isn't the right word.

It was clean. It was at Dr. Blacknam's office that I learned that cleaning works for leftover emotional crud like it works for dirt and bacteria. So, if something is clean it doesn't set off my empathy triggers. If it's disinfected I just get a soothing hum from it. If it's sterilized it's totally, blissfully silent. Going to the dentist was like going to the spa. Also, there was Dr. Blacknam himself. He was a genuinely gentle and kind person without any hidden anxieties eating at him. When he put on his gloves and mask I could hardly sense him at all unless he happened to touch me.

I loved the dentist.

"You did great, hon." I smiled, handing the pig-tailed girl a sticker.

Little Emma took my hand without prompting, I snagged her chart with the other and let her lead me down the hall toward the waiting-room, her mother following behind us. Emma let me go when she spotted the waiting-room door.

There was the waiting-room door and then a few feet from that was the half-door that led to the receptionist area. The idea was the patient would go out to the waiting room and then go to the front of the receptionist's window. We would go to the half-door and could see the patient through the back of the receptionist's window and hand-off the chart to Maricella and give any final instructions to the patient.

Emma hopped over and knelt next to the door, in front of a fishbowl full of cheap crappy toys. She dug through it with obvious excitement while her mom waited impatiently. The little girl finally decided on a silver plastic ring with a hot-pink flower. I collected my high-five from her and let them to go out to the waiting-room. I went the other direction to the receptionist's side and handed her the child's chart.

"Mari, we're good for six months." I said to her.

I peeked around the wall to look into the waiting-room, my patient and her mom were standing in front of Maricella's window.

I gave them a little wave and smiled. "You have a good day! Remember to brush those back ones, Emma! Fight the sugar-bugs!"

Emma gave me an adorable gap-toothed grin and waved bye while her mom smiled indulgently.

"Thanks so much, Doctor. I don't know how you do it." Emma's mom sighed. "Before we came here, she had to be sedated by the pediatric dentist just for her check-up."

I smiled. "Oh, no, Emma's a good girl. She probably just needed to grow up a little." I gave them a friendly nod. "Well, have a good one!"

I walked back to my office which was next to the break room. I squirted some hand-sanitizer into my hands and rubbed vigorously.

"Heya, Lori," I said without turning around.

"Ugh, how do you do that?" My assistant leaned against my door-frame. "I've been here five years and I haven't once been able to sneak up on you, it's creepy."

I just smirked and gave myself another squirt of hand-sanitizer.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Out, damn spot?"

"Cleanliness, godliness, blah blah blah," I replied and plunked into my chair.

"Anyhoo, your three-o'clock is in room two. Consult. Sounds like thirds. What me to get P.A.s?" she asked, hands in the pockets of her lab coat.

"Sounds good. Thanks, Loralei, I'll be along," I told her and turned to my computer to double-check the name of the patient. I didn't recognize it. It was either a new patient or someone another doctor in the office had seen.

"You got it, boss-man," she said with a little salute and turned on her heel, ponytail bouncing as she went.

I felt the subtle buzz in the air as I walked toward room two. I'd felt it often enough to know what it meant. Something a little more than human was in my op chair. Non-humans or humans with a little extra something special didn't always put off the same vibes as regular humans. Sometimes when I was out and about the zing could be painful if I walked past something supernatural. Here in my clean little office with all my disinfectant, as well as a few other tricks I'd learned to settle down my empathy, it was dampened and easy to handle.

Supernatural creatures have dental needs, too. They tended to be the same problems as the regular humans. I once gave a root canal to a Wendigo. He gave off creepy vibes but was surprisingly nice.

I never let on that I knew they were anything other than human, and I never did anything that I thought would reveal what I was. If they noticed, they didn't say anything.

This particular buzz was one I could identify, especially since I'd felt it so intensely a few weeks prior when I'd worked on Chrissy. I knew it was a werewolf, but I didn't expect a werewolf I'd recognize.

I certainly didn't expect Guy to be sitting there, fiddling with the paper napkin hanging under his chin.

"Mick?" His eyes widened when he saw me. "You're a dentist?"

I guess he wasn't expecting to see me either.

I stared at him stupidly for a moment. I think if he hadn't looked so shocked I would have just turned around and walked out. Instead I walked in and did my pretendiest that everything was normal.

"Hi, I'm Nathaniel Miklas. So, you're having some problems with your wisdom teeth...." I paused and looked at his chart then made significant eye contact. "William?"

He blinked and grinned at me. "William is a family name. My grampa is William, my dad is Bill. I go by my middle name, Guy. Does that make sense," it was his turn for eye contact and raised brows, "Mick?"

I sighed. "Some people call me Mick since my last name is Miklas."

"That doesn't explain why you..." He trailed off as Lori bustled in with his x-rays and I held his gaze and put a finger to my lips.

No one in the office knew about my work on the side. I'd rather keep it that way.

Guy definitely needed to have his wisdom teeth extracted. I was a little surpised he hadn't had them out already since two were horizontally impacted and he was twenty-four. They were causing a lot of pressure on the other teeth. Couldn't be comfy.

Lori assisted me with charting and then wandered off to help wash and sterilize instruments. She shut the door behind her.

"I'd suggest seeing an oral surgeon to have your wisdom teeth out. We can make a referral," I said cheerfully, stripping off my gloves and washing my hands.

Guy groaned. "Agh, not again."

I patted my hands dry on the paper towels. "Again?" I asked as I removed his napkin, careful not to touch him.

He looked at the closed door and then spoke quietly. "Because of... what I am, my wisdom teeth keep coming back. It doesn't happen right away. It takes a few months until they start to bother me. I can usually go nine or ten months before I can't stand it anymore."

"Well, that sounds less than fun."

He slumped back in the chair. "It happens. I'm not the first to have this problem. It's just a pain. Especially since I'm not based in Chicago anymore. It's inconvenient to see the pack dentist."

"They have their own dentist?" I ask, tossing my mask in the trash and removing my safety-glasses. They had little cartoon pictures of dancing teeth on the frames. The ladies at the office got them for me last Christmas. I loved them. Don't judge me.

"Like I said, things like this happen. I'm just glad my teeth have always been pretty straight." He said.

I imagined werewolf orthodontics. Would they have to keep redoing the braces? That would be both sucky and expensive.

I thought about what I knew about werewolves. I looked at his chart. There was a fluorescent orange sticker on it. ALLERGY – SILVER NITRATE, AMALGAM

"Hmm, so what happens when you have contact with silver nitrate?" I asked him.

"Uh, I'm not sure. We just have a general sensitivity to silver. A cut with a silver knife takes extra long to heal. Touching silver is irritating to the skin," he told me as I pulled up the armrest so he could get out of the chair.

"What if a little piece of silver gets stuck in the body?"

He shook his head. "Not a lot. It just sits there and is irritating. Eventually the body puts a little ball of scar-tissue around it. Then it doesn't hurt anymore."

I pursed my lips, thinking. "Do you think it would be alright if I called the pack's dentist? I have an idea, but I wanted to run it by them. Be sure to leave your number with our receptionist and I'll get back to you. If you know how I can reach the pack dentist leave that info with her too." I gave him my friendly-dentist smile and turned back to write in his chart.

Guy stood. I expected him to walk to the door. I didn't expect him to take two big steps and grab the counter to either side of me, trapping me between his arms.

Shit, I was all in dentist mode and forgot who I was dealing with, a werewolf I'd left with blue balls two weeks ago.

"We still have unfinished business, Mick," he growled.

I flinched, at least he wasn't touching me yet. I could feel his irritation and desire trying to get through to me, but I was at work and my defenses were high there. As long as he didn't touch me skin to skin I could ignore it. If he wasn't so damned good-looking things would have been easier.

"I'm sorry I got you excited then left you in the hall," I said meekly, glancing at the door. "Let's not do this. You'll squick my assistant if she comes in right now, and she might clock you with the op light if she thinks you're harassing me."

Lori was the protective type. It was cute. She was also way too observant. If I could feel the flush in my cheeks, she would see it and very likely draw some conclusions. She was always trying to get me to date. If she saw me all blushy with hot Guy all up in my business, I'm not sure if she would knock Guy out or just shut the door quietly after giving me a thumbs-up.

"Then later," he growled. "See me later."

His desire was beating out his irritation now. As much as I didn't want to be alone with an annoyed werewolf, I _really_ didn't want to be alone with a horny one. That had ended... distressingly last time. I tried desperately not to remember how his hands felt on me, his tongue in my mouth, his... Fuck, I was thinking about it. I leaned back as he leaned in. Don't touch me. Don't touch me. Dammit.

"I don't think that's a good idea." I tried to keep from squeaking. Not sure that was a success.

"See me later or I'll be in the parking lot waiting for you at closing-time everyday until you do," he said with a frown.

Fucking pushy werewolves.

I heard Lori and our hygienist, Melissa, laugh about something in the hall, then the sound of the autoclave clacking closed so it could be run. Shit, they were done with the instruments.

"Fine. Fine," I hissed. "I'll meet you at the Village Inn on Highway six at six-thirty tonight. You know where it is?"

He nodded and grinned. I gave his chest a little shove. Ooh, pleasantly muscley. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the thought. "Now out. And like I said, be sure we have a contact number for you."

He backed off and I sighed in relief. He was hot-stuff, sure, but I was at work. I have a no groping policy at work, very firm. If he had stayed there looming over me, looking all broody and intense, I'm not sure I'd have been able to keep my hands off him. I didn't want to have to write myself up for fondling a patient.

Besides, I knew he wanted to fuck me. I just wasn't sure if he wanted to eat me afterwards, and I don't mean 'eat' in a nice blow-job euphemism kind of way.

I was suddenly alone in the op and I sagged against the counter. I washed my hands again and hurried to my personal office. I was definitely not going back into room two again until it was thoroughly cleaned and disinfected. Lori would have to snag the chart for Maricella.

I was going to need a lot of hand sanitizer tonight. I could tell.

 

 


	4. Dangerous Detox

**Content/trigger warning: Self-harm. Poor Mick has some issues... Okay, a lot of issues. I still love him. And this is a shorter chapter than my usual, so I'll put the next chap up right away.**

I didn't dilly-dally after work. I got home and started my nightly routine. It was just a bit more rushed than usual since I would be meeting Guy.

I stripped off my clothes, tossed them in the hamper, then hopped in the shower. The water was deliciously hot, I loved my new water heater. I soaped and rinsed twice, once with antibacterial soap and once with rosemary soap. A fast shampoo and I was clean, at least on the outside.

I dried off quickly and pulled the lid from a wooden box tucked on a shelf. Inside was a long glass dish filled with blue-green liquid. Its lid had a seal that made a quiet pop as I removed it and set it aside. There was only one object in the dish. I pulled the short knife from the watery liquid and let it drip for a moment. The knife was a single piece of metal, with no wood or plastic for the handle. I rinsed it and shook the water off. I think it was supposed to be a throwing knife or something, but it worked well for my needs.

I had a convenient dispenser for rubbing alcohol on the sink. I took a cotton ball from the cup next to it and pumped some alcohol onto the cotton. The alcohol left a cool wet path on my wrist. I didn't waste time, pressing the blade to the damp flesh and giving one smooth hard pull. The sting of the alcohol hit me before the blood had a chance to well up. It followed quickly, enough to trickle but not enough to drip. The blade was sharp enough to cut but too dull to do much damage. I learned quickly that razor blades were a terrible choice. Those things were sharp as hell. I didn't want to slip and need stitches or worse. All I needed was a shallow cut with a little blood. Enough to hurt, enough to pop my endorphins just a little. The stinging alcohol helped boost it. I'd figured out the alcohol trick just a few years ago.

As I watched the blood seep slowly I focused on the pain from the cut as well as the fear the blood and pain evoked. I pushed back feelings of shame and guilt that tried to stick their noses in. They weren't helpful.

Maricella had been worrying over something when she came into the office this morning. It had stuck to me when she'd brushed past me in the hall at work. It had sat on my skin all day, an annoying tingle.

I set a finger on the cut and pressed, sending a little shock up my arm. The cloying tingle of Maricella's worries faded then disappeared.

The sting of every injection I'd given that day also left me. The hygienist's feelings of insecurity about her weight, the heavy sadness from my nine-o'clock patient whose wife had died the month before, the embarrassment from my one-o'clock that had been fifteen minutes late, and the dull ache from my two o'clock's migraine all slipped away. I let them go happily.

When I was alone in my own skin, I stopped pressing. I took a deep breath and let it out. I often wished I could just stay like this, empty and alone inside of myself. It was one of the few times I knew my thoughts were my own. Right now I knew my thought and feelings were mine, not someone else's.

But tonight I didn't have time to enjoy it.

I rinsed the blade and put it back in the blue-green sterilizing solution, replacing the lids. I washed my wrist and dried it carefully, applying pressure until I knew it wasn't going to bleed anymore. I opened a drawer and snagged a leather cuff. I'd had it made specially for me. When I put it on it looked like a wide leather cuff. It had a few small buckles and straps. I hoped it didn't make me look like a pretentious douche, but whatever.

I wore it when I didn't have long-sleeves. People get weird if they see someone with a cut-up wrist. Things get awkward. The other useful thing about the cuff was that I could clip inserts into it. If I had a fresh cut, I could snap in a strip of soft cloth. I could also put in a piece that had short dulled pins sticking out of it. If I needed a shot of pain I could press on the wristband and the pins would poke me. It was usually enough to keep me from drowning if I needed to escape someone's emotions.

I was witness to an accident between a car and a bike several years ago. When I tried to help, I was nearly crippled by the pain from the injuries of the guy on the bike. I ended up being unable to help at all. The E.M.T.'s had tried to take me to the hospital because they thought I'd been in the accident.

I had the cuff made after that. I don't go out without my wristband unless I'm on an empath job or going to work at the dental office.

I snapped in the cloth and the pins. I gave it an experimental squeeze to make sure it was settled well. Perfect. It was comfortable when I left it alone and it hurt when I put pressure on it.

I yanked a brush through my hair and held my bangs out of my face with a plain barrette. Boys can use barrettes too, so fuck off. I don't like having my hair in my eyes and I don't like it too short either. When I had empath work I slicked it back with gel. Otherwise I had several plain headbands and barrettes I could hold it back with.

I threw some clothes on and I was on my way. I didn't put on my usual herbal lotion and I left my little juju bag. I needed to have my senses about me, not be numbed. The lotion and the bag of herbs and stones would dull my empathy. I didn't want Guy to catch me by surprise again.

I snagged my keys and locked the door behind me. Time to go see the werewolf.

 


	5. Not the type of guy to date Guy

**a/n: Last chapter was pretty short, so I thought I'd post this too! Hopefully, it will make you happy enough to leave me a comment! Yay! What do you think will happen with Guy?**

Guy picked the booth I would have picked. It was in a corner in the back. It was also under an air vent. The air vent was a nice bonus since it would make it more difficult to overhear us. If I still smelled yummy to him, hopefully the good air circulation would keep Guy from getting too frisky.

He stood when he saw me. It was a gentlemanly gesture that left me feeling uncomfortable. I slid into the booth, sitting opposite to the spot he'd vacated. I expected him to sit back down where he'd been before. Instead he slid in next to me.

"Hey!" I hissed, scooting flush with the wall.

He smiled at me. "I don't want you getting spooked and taking off before I get a chance to talk to you."

I shooed at him ineffectually. "I'll listen, go to your own side."

He shook his head.

I was about to argue further when the waitress approached us. Her bright smile lost a little wattage as she saw me smooshed against the wall, glaring at Guy.

"Hey, Dr. Nate, everything ok?" she asked, eyeballing the werewolf.

I straightened and smacked on a smile. "Just fine. I think we're ready to order!" I chirped.

Guy blinked and scrambled for his menu, quickly finding what he wanted and relaying it to the waitress after I ordered for myself. She bounced off to give our order to the kitchen and get our drinks.

"She a patient of yours?" He asked.

I shook my head. "If she was I couldn't tell you, it would be a HIPAA privacy violation."

He looked sheepish, which I thought was ironic and amusing.

I smirked. "But she's not. I just come in here pretty regularly. It's the cleanest restaurant in town."

He looked at me oddly. Whatever. Doesn't everyone choose their restaurants by how well they eradicate lingering psychic vibrations? Restaurants usually weren't bad anyway, as long as they weren't too busy. Bars weren't great. I avoided clubs like the plague.

I scooted back to the wall.

"So, how's Chrissy doing?" I asked. I'd planned to send Saul Thorpe an email to see how his daughter was faring. Maybe Guy could fill me in.

He seemed unprepared for the question. "Oh, I think she's doing well. It was surprising how quickly she's been recovering. She's seeing a psychologist every other day, for a while. Mr. Thorpe is keeping a close eye on her, just in case Benton wasn't the only one scheming."

"Benton?" I asked as our waitress set our drinks in front of us and then puttered off again.

"He was the one that was threatening Christina."

"Oh, right. I just saw him, I didn't hear her say his name." I stuck my straw in my Sprite and took a swig. Glorious carbonated sugar. And I call myself a dentist. Oh, the shame.

Guy looked immensely curious, I was impressed he was able to keep from asking questions about my session with Chrissy.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about, Guy?" I turned sideways in the booth to face him, pulling up one knee and setting my foot on the seat. Yeah, bad manners, I know.

The tips of his ears turned pink and I hid a smirk by taking another sip of my drink. I relaxed a little. It was hard to feel threatened by a blushing dude. It also didn't seem like he was going to jump on me, that helped. I felt excitement and nervousness as well as determination swirling through him, nothing that made me want to flee.

"I..." He bit his lip and continued. "I'm really sorry about what happened in Chicago. I really have no excuse for my behavior. I thought I could handle your scent. And then we stopped at the hotel, and then I was thinking about your mouth on my..."

He paused, blushing brighter. Shit, now he was just being cute.

"And then when you ran... I wanted so badly to catch you." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry if I came on too strong."

"It was a little... intense," I conceded, resting my chin on my knee. "Part of the reason I ran was because I wasn't sure if I was going to end up with a hand-job or my throat ripped out."

Guy cocked his head to the side and looked confused. "You thought I was going to hurt you?"

"You were talking about me like I smelled like your favorite pastry and you kept on nipping me. When I tried to talk to you it seemed like your wolfy-side was in control. I don't know enough about your people to know if you're dangerous in that state." I explained.

"Oh, damn." He sighed. "This is embarrassing. I wasn't going to hurt you, I swear. I'm so sorry."

I nodded. I didn't know if I wouldn't be freaked out if I was in the situation again, but I was willing to accept that Guy hadn't been planning on painting the hotel with my blood. Good to know.

"You know it's freaky that I smell yummy to you. And to that other guy in the warehouse." I grimaced. It made me feel like a giant cookie.

"It's not just the two of us. You smell that way to most of us. I'm not sure if the alphas are susceptible." He looked thoughtful.

"What do you mean when you say I smell good? Like food, or perfume, or what?"

When he leaned into me my relaxation vanished and I was pushing myself into the wall again.

"It's hard to describe." He tipped his head and nuzzled the hand on my knee.

I yanked it to my chest protectively. His eyes rolled up to gaze at me. As I watched, green pushed back the soft brown in his iris. Shit. Fucking werewolves.

"It makes my heart beat harder and my skin feel warm." A growl had slipped into his voice, it was freaking me out. "I want to pull you close and cover myself in your scent, wrap it around me and wallow in it."

His fingers wrapped around my ankle and slid up my calf.

"Hey!" I yipped. "Hands, Mister! Hands to yourself!" I pushed at him with my foot.

"But I want to touch you so much." He crowded toward me. "Just a little? Please?"

"Alright. That's enough of that." I said sternly, I was not going to get groped in Village Inn.

I grimaced and kicked my foot back under the table. Then I did I little move I learned when I was about five. I let my body go loose and slid under the table. I crouched low so I wouldn't bonk my head. I scooted up onto the opposite bench just as our waitress arrived with our food. I got myself situated and glared at my dinner companion.

Our waitress looked more amused than concerned with my little trip under the table. After we assured her we didn't need refills on our drinks we were alone again.

"Are you sure you're thirty?" Guy asked me. "The last person I saw do that was my niece and she's seven."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, you caught me. I'm sixteen. I'm the dental equivalent of Doogie Howser."

"Yeah, you're a dentist," he said thoughtfully. "I didn't see that coming."

"And I didn't expect to see you in my chair," I countered.

This was exactly why I didn't do empath work around home. I preferred to not work in Iowa at all. Most of my work ended up being in Chicago or Minneapolis. Sometimes I was called down to St. Louis or around Kansas City. I'd been further, but I tried not to work any closer to home. I liked my regular life separate from my empath work.

When I looked back to Guy I was glad to see his eyes had returned to normal.

"You don't live in Chicago?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I just got transferred from there. I finished my training and certification and was assigned here. My area includes most of Southeast Iowa."

"What do you do?" I asked, cutting a piece of my chicken-fried steak. Mmmm, gravy. Yummy.

"I'm a guardian. I'm here for protection and guidance for pack in the area," he explained, chomping a fry.

"What, like a cop?" I wondered aloud. I felt much more comfortable with a table between us.

He shook his head. "Not exactly. Usually, it's helping people work through problems like a therapist. Sometimes, it means acting as a mediator. Sometimes, it is a bit like police work, if the problem is serious enough. Most of the time, I'll be helping pack with problem solving and dealing with issues."

"Sounds complicated," I said as I squirted ketchup on my hashbrowns.

He looked vaguely horrified that I would taint my hashbrowns with ketchup. I took a little delight in stirring them around to mix the ketchup in while he was watching.

He pulled his attention away from my supper. "It can be, but I really love it. You have to have a psychology degree and quite a bit of training. There's even an exam you have to take to get certified as a guardian. There's continuing education too."

I groaned. "I hate continuing ed. I hope it's more interesting than what dentists have to do."

Guy grinned. "I hope so, too. I haven't had to take any yet. I was still just a junior before this. This is my first post as a full guardian."

"Have you been busy with the new job?" I asked.

He shrugged. "There's always someone who needs help. It can be hard being what we are. Fitting in with regular society while still being a part of your pack is a balancing act. And we always have to be careful that pack secrets are kept from the regular world."

I sucked on my drink. "Yeah, you're awfully free with the info when you're talking to me, though. This is more detailed than the briefing I got for the Chicago job."

His ears burned again as he paused, hamburger halfway to his mouth. "Well, I got permission."

"Oh, so I can get the info I need to work on your teeth?"

"Uh, not exactly." He looked at his plate like his pickle held life's answers. "I actually called the new Beta after I saw you." He peeked up at me and his gaze was intense. "I got permission to pursue you."

I dropped my fork with a clatter. Fuck. I thought he said he didn't want to eat me? My mind was filled with visions of Guy chasing me through the woods, running me down like a rabbit. My heart hammered and my eyes went wide. Was it some kind of sick game the werewolves played? Did they find a human target that they found interesting, then they got permission to 'pursue' them? Did I get a head start? God, I hoped I got a head start... and a bazooka.

I didn't even realize I was out of the booth until I felt a sharp pain in my wrist. Guy had grabbed my arm to stop me and caught the cuff. The sharp sting helped calm me down. He wasn't going to kill me in the middle of the restaurant. Murder and pancakes don't mix. Well, I don't think they do.

I yanked my hand free. "I thought you said you didn't want to hurt me," I hissed at him.

He blinked at me stupidly. "What... I don't!"

"But you just want to 'pursue' me?" I said, trying to keep my voice down. "And when you chase me down and catch me, what, we have tea and crumpets?"

I stalked toward the register. They'd have to find my ticket so I could pay. I couldn't wait. I was so out of here.

"Wait, no!" Guy followed at my heels. "Pursue doesn't mean that!"

He stopped behind me, tugging at my shirt-sleeve, trying to get me to turn around. I ignored him. I'd be contacting the Alpha when I got home. This was bullshit.

"It means I want to date you! I want to woo you!" he ended with a distressed shout.

I froze. Our waitress was in front of me at the register. She looked from me to Guy and then back again. A huge grin spread across her face and her eyes sparkled.

She leaned over and stage-whispered, "Go for it, Dr. Nate. He's hot."

I groaned and glanced around. Every eye was on us. There were even a couple of guys from the kitchen that were leaning out to see what the hubbub was.

I would never be able to show my face in that restaurant again.

I ended up letting Guy come back to my house. That didn't mean I would let him inside. Oh, hell, no. But he was certainly not done talking to me and I was certainly done being gawked at. I was also terrified of what kind of encouragements our waitress would give to Guy. If there was one thing I didn't need, it was an encouraged Guy.

"You." I pointed to my porch swing. "Sit there," I ordered.

He sat obediently. Good, wolfy.

My lot was pretty big and the house was set back from the street. There were plenty of trees and bushes to block prying eyes and ears. As long as we stayed relatively quiet, no one should be listening in.

I stood in front of him, fists on my hips.

"Okay. Now, what the fuck are you talking about?" I asked shortly.

He ran a hand through his dark hair and leaned back on the swing. He looked nervous and I could feel it. It crackled in my head unpleasantly.

"I told you. I want to date you. I got permission. I had to since you aren't pack. You're now designated as one pursued. That connects you to the pack and gets you certain protections and lets you know more about us." His hazel eyes looked so earnest it was hard to keep pushing him away.

But he didn't realize that he was barking up the wrong tree. Hell, he was in the wrong damn forest.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You seem like a nice person, Guy." My eyes slid up his legs and thighs to his chest and broad shoulders then to his handsome face. "And Christ knows you are definitely nice to look at, but I am not the type of guy you date. I'm not dating material. I'm not boyfriend material, especially not for someone like you.

He stiffened. "Someone like me?"

I grunted. "Yes. Someone like you. You are a helper. You are a combo cop/therapist/knight in shining armor. Sir Guy-lahad."

He frowned. He didn't think I was funny. I thought I was funny. Maybe it was the delivery.

"Anyway, you deserve some sweet normal person that you can have a sweet normal relationship with. Then you can get married and have sweet normal babies. I am so not that sweet normal person. I don't date. I just don't," I finished.

If he didn't have the word 'COMMITMENT' practically blinking in neon above his head, I might have taken him to bed for a quick, one-time tumble. But I knew I couldn't let him have my ass. He'd want to keep it.

My dream was that he would sigh softly and say he understood. He would nod sadly and go to leave. Maybe he would give me a wistful parting kiss. And I would never see him again. I would make copies of his x-rays and send them to his new dentist.

Yeah, that's not what happened.

 


	6. Empaths are Easy

Goddammit, werewolves are fast. Guy was on me in a second. His arms wrapped around me as he pressed his cheek to the side of my neck. I tried to push him back, but it was like shoving a boulder. My panic settled down a little as I realized he wasn't doing anything but hugging me. I'd been glomped by a werewolf.

He whispered into my throat, raising goosebumps down my skin. "I told myself I was willing to let you go. If you told me you weren't interested, if you didn't want me."

I gave his shoulder another experimental shove. Nope, still not moving. His feelings of affection and protectiveness tried to burrow into me, I fought them off.

"And that's what I told you. Not interested," I grumbled. "Now, please, stop smooshing me."

He shook his head, making him nuzzle into my throat. I fought a shiver. God, that felt good.

"No, you didn't,” he said matter-of-factly. “You told me you think I'm a good person and you find me physically attractive. You tried to tell me you aren't worth dating. You attempted to convince me that I'm too good for you. Then, you put yourself down." I felt his warm breath on my skin as he spoke. "You like me, and it's ok for me to like you."

Shit. He was going to go psychologist on me. I should have seen this coming. Later, he would make me talk about my feelings or something. No fucking way.

"I just said that so you wouldn't feel bad when I rejected you!" I yelped as he kissed behind my ear. "I don't like you!" I stammered. "You're ugly and you smell bad!"

"I think you like me," he whispered in my ear.

Motherfucker, making me all shivery and weak-kneed...

The affection was still there, brushing against me. But I felt the rising tide of his desire and tried to brace myself against it. His hands slid down my back to cup my ass. He pressed himself tight to me and I knew the moment he noticed my erection because I could feel him smirk against my neck.

"I know you like me," he said, pulling back to look into my eyes. "And you're safe with me. I won't hurt you, I promise."

Yeah, fucking right. I'd heard that kind of line before.

He kissed me, pressing his lips gently against mine. His tongue slipped in, stroking against mine. He pressed harder, seeking, then caressing and I was lost. I'm a sucker for a hot kiss, and I let myself fall into his passion.

I groaned into his mouth and my hands pulled him closer instead of pushing him away. He grunted in satisfaction and pressed me to the wall behind me. I rested my weight on one leg and threw the other around his. Guy grabbed it above my knee and pulled until we were groin to groin, grinding against each other.

If this kept up I was going to fuck him right here on the porch.

"Fuck, ahh," I moaned as he nibbled my neck. "Inside, Guy. Let's go inside."

He grabbed me around the waist and half-carried half-dragged me into my house. The door opened directly into my living room. My bedroom was to the right. We didn't make it to my room. The couch was closer.

We fell onto it in a tangle. He rolled on top of me, kissing me hard. I shoved his shirt up as he popped the button on my pants and pushed them down, leaving me in my boxers with my pants trapping my ankles. My fingers skimmed up his side and over his chest. He had enough muscle to give him extremely nice definition and a sense of mass and strength. His skin was hot, like he had a fever. I couldn't remember if he was this warm when he'd had me up against the hotel room door. I dragged my thumbs over his nipples and he groaned, his grip on my knee tightening. I grinned and did it again.

His mouth caught mine and it was my turn to thrust my tongue past his lips. I wanted to devour him, I didn't know if the feeling was mine or his and I didn't fucking care. I dragged my short nails up his back and he arched, rubbing against me. Damn, he was pretty with his dark hair mussed and his eyes half-closed, breathing hard. I freed his pants' button and tugged the zipper down, wanting to feel his hard length in my hand. I felt his hot flush of pleasure like silk in my mind as I wrapped my fingers around him through the cloth of his undies. Felt like boxers. I approved. He groaned and started pushing my shirt up my stomach.

I slammed the brakes on my horniness, grabbed his wrist and yanked it back down. He looked puzzled and tugged again. Even with my hold, he was pulling my shirt up again. Dammit, he was strong.

"Wait," I gasped as the fabric inched up. Shit, it was getting too close. I smacked his arm. "Wait, goddammit."

He raised an eyebrow. "I can take your pants off, but losing your shirt makes you shy?"

I gritted my teeth. "If we're going to play, then it's either with my shirt on or in the dark. That's the rule."

Guy's eyebrows came down and I knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"Why?" he asked, letting go of my shirt.

"It doesn't matter," I grumbled, tugging my shirt safely down to my waist. "So, what'll it be? Shirt on, dark, or are you going home?"

I knew I was kind of being a dick, I just couldn't bring myself to feel very bad about it. I hated this conversation every time I had it.

Guy frowned and I could tell he wanted to argue. He didn't, though, smart boy. Instead he stripped off his own shirt and slid himself down my body. God, he felt good against me.

"Shirt on," he replied, smirking up at me. "I want to see your face when I make you come."

I had wilted a bit when I'd fought for my top, but his words made my cock twitch and harden. I sucked in a breath as he wrapped his lips around me through the fabric of my boxers. God, his mouth was so hot. Jesus, I thought he might kiss me a little or grope me or something. Impatient bugger went straight for the dick. Not that I was complaining, no sane man would complain when someone is extra eager to suck his cock.

I could feel the heat of his breath and tongue through the cotton. He nuzzled me and grinned as he caught the waistband in his teeth and tugged. I helped out by lifting my hips so he could pull them down. But that's me, I'm a helpful sort.

He quickly tugged off everything I had on from the waist down and tossed them carelessly out of the way. His impatience was fucking adorable. I looked into eyes that had bled to green. Why, hello there, wolfy. He knelt between my knees and regarded me as his palms slid up my knees and thighs. My breath hitched as one hand wrapped around my length and the other cupped my balls, rolling them gently with his fingers. His hand around my shaft moved up, friction pulling on my skin deliciously. His thumb swiped over the head, smearing the slick precum and making me moan. His fist slid back down my length as he leaned forward. My balls tightened as he licked his lips and I felt a puff of his breath against my sensitive tip.

My fingers gripped the cushion as I felt his tongue, hesitant at first, swipe once over the head of my cock as his hand gave me a squeeze.

"Jesus," I choked out.

"Close," he said with a smirk and licked me again. "But not quite."

Then he moved his hand away and swallowed my length in one smooth movement. My hips bucked and I let out a strangled grunt. He choked a little as I thrust upward and caught him a little deeper in his throat that he'd expected. He swallowed, his throat tightening around me. My chest tightened as I gasped.

He pulled back up slowly, suction hollowing his cheeks. When he reached the tip, his tongue swirled my head once then he was quickly going back down again, pushing to take all of me. He seemed to find a rhythm, pushing himself to take me deeper on each downward slide until his lips hit my body at the base of my cock each time. I wasn't going to last long, it felt amazing.

"Guy, oh fuck." I moaned and he hummed around me and increased his pace.

His hand lifted and rolled my balls as his mouth kept moving. Then, the hand slid back, sneaking between my ass cheeks. My hands unclenched from my couch's cushion and my grip transferred to his shoulders, digging into the muscles. I felt a touch against my asshole, pushing without entering. It circled my hole, then tapped against it in a firm staccato. Electric pleasure shot from my ass to my cock and back again.

It's polite to let the person sucking your cock for the first time know when you are about to erupt so they don't have to swallow if they don't want to. I wanted to flip off politeness, grab him by the back of the head, push my cock deep, and jizz down his throat.

I controlled myself and was able to gasp out a warning. "Guy, I'm going to fucking come."

He hummed again and quickened his pace further. Looked like Guy was a swallower. Yay. The knowledge bumped me over the edge. My nails dug into his shoulders as my head fell back. My orgasm was hot and electric, Guy swallowing around me sending little shocks up my cock and into my balls.

When I was finally able to lift my leaden head from the back of the couch and open my eyes, Guy was grinning up at me. His elbow rested on my thigh, his cheek resting in his hand.

"Well, that was fun." His voice was deep with an edge of a growl to it.

I grinned back. "Definitely." I sat up and tugged him to me, kissing him as deeply as I could, enjoying the taste of myself on his tongue. I pulled back. "So, do I make silly faces when I come?"

Guy's eyes darkened. "Not silly, more like amazingly erotic."

I gave him a quick kiss on the nose. "Well, that's good. Nobody wants a goofy o-face." I sat up a little. "Now sit back, baby, it's my turn to see your face when you come in my mouth."

I was confused by a tiny flare of disappointment from Guy. I focused my attention to where my skin was touching his and looked closer at the feeling. An image flickered for a just a moment in my mind. I was on my hands and knees with Guy behind me, thrusting hard and fast into my ass. My cock twitched and started to harden again. Down, boy. That was so not happening tonight. He would have to be happy with a suck off. I wasn't ready to let him fuck me. I had fought against screwing around with him at all and failed. I could at least have some control over how far this went.

He let me push him back against the couch and strip him the rest of the way. He threw one leg up on the couch seat, his other foot rested on the coffee table. His knees fell open, exposing himself to my eyes. His uncut cock was long and thick, curling slightly to point at his flat belly. The bush around his base was short and neat. He manscaped, how nice. I was momentarily distracted by the irony of a werewolf keeping himself trimmed tidily.

I crawled up and laid against him, bringing our lips together. I had a moment of disappointment that I couldn't feel his skin against mine with my shirt on. I pushed it back. I'd rather see him than have to turn off the lights so I could lose my shirt. I felt his hand slide up the back of my thigh to grab my bare ass. I nuzzled into his neck, nipping and sucking. His grip tightened, pulling me flush against him. I licked his collarbone and bit his shoulder. I felt his cock throb where it was trapped between our bodies.

His fingers tickled the base of my spine just below the hem of my shirt.

"I won't pull it up." He said. "But can I feel underneath? I want to touch you."

I nodded and his hand slid under my shirt and up my back. I arched into his touch, grinding my groin against him. He groaned, his other hand going to my hip, holding me against him. Fingers tickled up my spine then back down, tracing my vertebrae. He rubbed my lower back then higher again.

"You feel nice." He murmured as I kissed across his broad chest.

I wriggled against his erection. "You feel pretty damned nice yourself."

He groaned, his grip spasming against my hip. I leaned up and let myself slide back until my knees hit the floor. I kissed and licked across his nipples then down his stomach. He let go of me, hands falling to his sides.

I paused until his eyes focused and looked down at me. I grinned and held his gaze as I stuck my tongue out as far as I could and dragged it wetly from the base of his cock to the tip. I caught a pearl of precum there and slurped it from the slit. He shuddered.

"Mmmm, Guy-lollipop." The grin was still on my face. "Yummy."

He looked like he was about to say something. Before he got the chance I dropped my head forward and tried to swallow down as much of Guy's cock as I could in one movement. His words transformed into a choked grunt. I sucked as I pulled partway off him then slid down again, trying to get down further on his shaft with my lips.

I know I have plenty of faults. I try to accept them, change them, or ignore them. I also have a few talents. One I take pride in is being a grade-A cocksucker. I once had a boyfriend who told me he thought I could suck the chrome off a hubcap. He looked pretty damn happy when he said it, so I took it as a compliment. It was one area where being an empath was handy. It was like cheating. I could feel when I hit the right spot with my tongue, or if I needed to back off on the suction. It was really almost masturbatory. I could feel the pleasure as my own if I let go enough.

So, I knew when Guy wanted me to suck his balls and just how hard to do it. I also knew he liked it when I let myself slurp loudly as I sucked down the length of his shaft then up again to twirl my tongue around the head. I wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and squeezed gently. I moved my fist to follow my mouth as it pulled up then sucked back down. He was well lubricated with my saliva and my hand slid easily, adding a twist on the way back toward his body. I moaned around him as I felt myself tighten in bliss. He was close.

I felt his fingers running aimlessly through my hair.

"Mick. Oh, fuck, Mick."

I tried to hum encouragingly. I twirled my tongue up the long ridge on the underside of his cock and upped my pace, sucking him faster. His hips began to rise and fall in time with my motions. His breaths started to stutter and I felt his cock jerk then become impossibly hard. He came with a curse and a groan and I swallowed as fast as I could.

Nice boys swallow. I try to be nice.

When I thought I had gotten all I was going to I pulled my lips off him with a pop. He shivered and groaned, oversensitive. I couldn't help a slightly sadistic smile. Okay, I'm sort of nice, sometimes.

I liked that small reaction I could get from a man just after he came. That feeling of too much too soon on flesh that was way too sensitive, making their breath hitch and their body jerk. On myself it felt wickedly delicious, but I've had several lovers who accused me of masochism.

I snagged my undershorts as I heaved myself back up onto the couch next to a recovering Guy. He panted as I dabbed at the white smears on my stomach and the tip of my cock, then I leaned over to wipe off his shin.

He blinked at me, eyes still glassy. "Did you... again?"

I dropped the boxers back on the floor and curled into his side. "Yup." I snuggled his arm around my shoulder. "Empaths are easy."

He snorted and his amusement wrapped around me like a cool puff of wind. He rested his feet on the coffee table, crossing them at the ankle. Contented relaxation poured into me and I let it, it was better than Thorazine. His fingers stroked idly up and down my arm, slipping up and stopping at my sleeve then back down again. If I were a cat I'd have been purring.

Unfortunately, a post-coital buzz can't last forever. I could feel him starting to think too much, like a murmur of muted conversation in the next room. I leaned over and kissed his wrist as it petted my arm, then ducked out from under his. I sat up and stretched. When I wasn't touching him I felt a little more myself. I stood and tugged on my pants. I snagged his clothes from where we'd flung them and tossed them into his lap. Subtle, that's me. But it seemed more polite than telling him to put on his damn clothes and get out.

I was starting to feel a little sick. This was a bad idea. This was always a bad idea. I walked stiffly to the bathroom and got myself a drink or water in the little plastic cup I keep above the sink, rinsing the lingering bitterness from the back of my tongue. I heard rustling movement from the living room. I hoped when I turned Guy would have slipped out the front door.

No such luck. When I turned, he was walking toward me. At least he had his pants on. His shirt was in his hands. His wide chest taunted me, begging me to measure him with my hands and remind myself how warm and firm he felt. I set down my cup and stepped out of the bathroom. I didn't want him to block me in there. I shook my head. I'd just sucked him off willingly, he wasn't likely to jump me. I was just being stupid. I didn't take the step back, though, in fact I took a few more steps forward and met him in the middle of the room.

I let him reach forward and stroke my cheek. With the touch came affection chased with a little confusion and worry. Also, he was thinking way too fucking hard for me to be comfortable. I could almost see the question mark twirling above his head. I needed to shoo him off before he started poking questions at me to see if he could knock some answers loose. He wanted to figure me out. Unfortunately, I wasn't in the mood to be figured.

I pushed myself up and caught his mouth with mine. Hard to ask dumb questions with my tongue in his mouth. Ha, so there. I didn't feel quite so clever when his arms wrapped around me and pulled me close as he hummed happily. I let out an embarrassing squeak as he squeezed just a little too tight. He eased off immediately and murmured an apology.

I stepped out of his arms and looked pointedly at the clock.

"Well," I started lamely. "I have patients in the morning, so..."

He blinked at me dumbly and looked at the clock. It wasn't that late. I wasn't very good at this, but dammit I was tired and I needed to wipe down and disinfect the couch and probably some of the floor too. Then I'd need to give myself another shower and a moment with my little knife just so I'd be able to settle down enough to sleep. I should probably get my clothes in the washer while I was thinking of it.

"I guess... I should go then?" He asked.

I nodded sagely and gave him a bright empty smile. He tugged his shirt on over his head. I walked to the front door and stood next to it while he pulled on his shoes. He stepped to me and leaned over to drop a careful kiss on my lips.

"I'll call you tomorrow." He said. "I want to see you again."

"You want to be my boyfriend." I fought a grimace. "I don't want a boyfriend, Guy." I gestured at my couch just waiting to be scrubbed down. "That's about the best that I can offer you. I know you want and deserve more than a quick and dirty suck-and-fuck." I rested my head back on the wall. "Or, in our case, suck without the fuck."

He caught my chin with his fingers and tugged it down to make me look at him. His mouth pressed to mine hard and fast, catching my breath in my chest. When he pulled back my lips tingled with heat.

His voice held a low growl. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He slipped out my door, his steps silent on the wood planks of my porch.

He was going down the steps as I sucked in a breath and stuck my head out the door. "You're not my boyfriend!"

He didn't turn around, just waved a hand at me dismissively. "Tomorrow."

I huffed and clenched my teeth. If this kept up I was going to need a mouthguard just for Guy-related bruxism, grinding my teeth to dust.

He was pursuing me. Shit.

**a/n: What do you think of my boys? I hope you like it so far! Please let me know what you think!**

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	7. Not Fucking Dating

The next day was tense, to say the least. I doubted Guy would be popping out from behind a door or from under my desk and shouting 'boo', but I really didn't know Guy. It was hard to say what he would do. I could see him laying the labrador eyes on Maricella and her showing him to my personal office with a giggle and a smile.

I made it to five without sighting any amorous werewolves. Although, I think Mrs. Finklestein was checking out my ass when I bent over in front of her to pick up a dropped x-ray envelope, she's seventy and feisty. At least Mrs. Finklestein could keep her hands to herself, unlike some person I could mention whose name rhymes with 'pie'.

He wasn't on my porch when I got home. A quick survey of the house didn't find him inside, either. Thank god he wasn't hiding under my bed when I peeked, I would have had a fucking heart attack. The whole thing was pretty anticlimactic. I ended up doing what I would do any night. I did my little wind-down routine, bandaged my fresh cut, and threw on some pajama pants and a tee. I was feeling a bit insecure so I threw on my wristband too, though I usually didn't wear it to lounge around the house. I wandered into the living room and tried to decide what to watch on TV or if I wanted to play a video game.

I needed some therapy involving eviscerating and decapitating. I got into a nicely bloody quest on my laptop. I wasn't sure I loved the game mechanics in the new dungeon crawling game, but the imps were squishing to my satisfaction. So, it was acceptable. I'd been playing a little over half an hour when the doorbell rang. I cursed the lack of save points and paused hopefully; like I was going to go to the door, loan the neighbor a cup of sugar, then get back to my game. I knew better. I would be timed out and kicked off the server before I got back to it.

I glanced at the clock. It was 6:30, the time I'd had Guy meet me yesterday. I felt dumb for not expecting it. So, it was no shock when I peeked around the door and saw Guy scuffing the toe of his shoe on my porch. The flowers in his hands surprised me some, though.

I bit my lower lip hard and tried not to laugh. "Give me just a minute and I'll be ready for the school social. My daddy just wants to threaten you about maintaining my virtue and to tell you to have me home by eleven."

Guy gave me an embarrassed smile. "I'm not very good at this, I think. Men don't like flowers?"

And just like that I couldn't be an asshole and push him away. He was too earnest and sincere, and I was weak.

I pulled the door open and gestured him in. "I don't know if all men like flowers, but I do. Come on and I'll find a vase." I tried to sound at least a little grouchy.

It took some poking around in my kitchen, but I found a vase of the right size. I washed the dust off and filled it with cool water. I snipped the bottoms of the stems and slipped them in.

"Thanks," I said awkwardly. "They're nice."

I took them back to the living room and set them on the coffee table. I bent over them, fluffing the blooms around until they were arranged to my satisfaction. I felt Guy behind me. Without my juju bag to block it, his presence filled the room. His feelings swirled around me and I felt a flush warm my cheeks. I already knew where his eyes would be before I turned my head. When I straightened and faced him he pulled his gaze from my ass with obvious difficulty. Guy stepped into my space. With the coffee table behind my knees, I couldn't move back without falling on my butt, so I held my ground. His hand lifted and stroked my cheek as he leaned into me, I swear he was fucking smelling me again. The desire that I had just been aware of before he was touching me smacked me hard when his skin caressed mine. I groaned and leaned into his hand without meaning to. Guy was hell on my self-control. I was surprised when he stepped back. His touch drifted across my cheek then ghosted across my throat before letting me go.

Guy settled down on the couch. It was the same place he'd sat last night. I blew out a breath. After he'd left the night before, I'd successfully cleaned semen, lust, and orgasm out of my couch. It was a reason to like the faux-leather, it cleaned easily and the disinfectant didn't cause any discoloration. The finish was such that bare skin didn't adhere to it then rip my flesh off when I tried to stand up. It was a big selling point. I had a feeling I'd be doing some cleaning again tonight. I might as well get on with things, too. We'd already established he could make me want it pretty easily. He was also a little bigger and a whole fuck of a lot stronger than I was. It wasn't worth it to me to see just how pushy he would get trying to get my pants off. Besides, I hadn't eaten supper yet. I could get him off, see him out, and nuke some leftovers. I liked my plan. I just hoped he'd be happy with another blowjob and didn't demand something more time-consuming.

I pushed the coffee table out a little, careful not to knock over the flowers. I dropped to my knees between his legs, enjoying the thud and slight sting as I hit the hardwood floor. I slid my palms up his thick jean-clad thighs to the waist where I fiddled, trying to free the metal button there.

"Mick," Guy groaned. "Wait, slow down."

I shoved his shirt up to his chest and leaned over to lick his belly-button. With the touch, I felt his desire and confusion spike. The fight with his button raged on. It finally slipped open and I went for the zipper. Let's get this party started.

Strong hands closed over my wrists and yanked them away from his crotch. I hadn't put the pin insert in my wristband, so there was no pain as he squeezed it. I looked up at Guy's face for the first time since he'd sat down. He didn't look happy. Well, shit, I guessed he was going to be wanting something a bit more involved than practicing my deep-throating skills. I didn't feel anger in his touch, but he was definitely annoyed. He pulled me up his body until I was sprawled over him, my face close to his.

"I'm not here for a booty-call, Mick," he grumbled.

I blinked at him. "Okay."

He sighed when I just looked at him blankly. "Can we just talk or something?" he asked. "I'd like to get to know you further than just what hot little sounds you make when you're turned on."

I grinned. "So, you like the sounds I make?" I wiggled suggestively in his lap.

He groaned and shifted his hips away from me. "I'm serious."

I frowned and he let go of my wrists. "You're not here to try to fuck me?" This was quite a turn-around.

He groaned again and reached down to adjust himself more comfortably in his pants. "Christ, you'd tempt a saint," he muttered. "You talk like this at work?"

I shook my head. "Depends on which work you mean. If you are talking about the dental office, then no. I'm not the same person at the office." I snorted. "I don't swear at all there. Lori thinks I'm a goody two-shoes."

"What do you mean you're not the same person?" He asked.

I shrugged. "I don't act the same, don't feel the same. I get nice and numb. I love dentistry."

"What makes you numb?" he asked in the same calm nonjudgmental tone.

I narrowed my eyes. "I see what you're doing there. Learn this in psychology school?"

It was his turn to shrug. "I told you I wanted to talk, I want to know you."

I blew out a breath. "Fine." I could do talking. "But I need to get something to eat. I was just going to nuke some leftovers." I pulled myself from his tempting lap to stand. "You want some? It's nothing fancy."

Guy nodded happily. What a weirdo. He refused sex and was beaming about my leftover goulash. So, I fed him leftovers. In his defense, it was delicious goulash. I think some food is better warmed up the second or third day, like all the flavors get nicely settled into the meat or pasta. As we ate I answered his questions about my life. He got a quick overview of my family. I grew up in Cedar Falls, Iowa. I had one sister. My dad died in a car wreck when I was ten. Guy was appropriately sympathetic and apologetic, I felt his sincerity but dodged when he reached for my hand. I didn't want to feel it quite that much. My mom had remarried when I was twelve and I'd had a stepfather for a while until they'd divorced when I was sixteen.

He seemed interested in my house, so I told him about it. I loved my house. It was built in the late 1800s. It was originally about a mile to the north, but around 1920 or so they'd moved it here and set it onto a new foundation. The woodwork was all original and simple but lovely. I still had the old brass knobs on the doors. They all had big keyholes, but the key was long gone before I'd ever seen the place. It was good I lived alone since none of the doors locked, including the bathroom. I adored the pocket doors and hidey-hole under the stairs. When I'd bought it, the house had needed quite a bit of fixing up. Some I did myself, like taking out the drop ceilings and tearing up the carpet. Putting carpet over those diagonal plank hardwood floors was a damned crime. I left the more complicated things like plumbing and electrical to the professionals. When I'd seen the old electrical box full of ancient-looking buss fuses and dusty spider webs I was sure the house was moments from burning down in an electrical fire.

The basement had a concrete floor and several creepy rooms with plenty of spiders. I think one was for cold storage and one was for coal, but that was just wild speculation on my part. There was space in the basement for a laundry where I left a beat-up washer and dryer. They were useful if the ones on the ground floor broke down. On the ground floor, there were two bedrooms, a living room, dining room, kitchen, full bathroom, and laundry room. The upstairs was actually a separate one-bedroom apartment. There was also a large attic up there that could be another bedroom. I didn't rent out the upstairs and attic. There was no fucking way I wanted to deal with a tenant. I kept it up and functional, mostly for when my sister or mom came to visit. They knew I needed my own space and they respected that.

I bought the house on a whim after I'd moved to Iowa City. I'd been looking for something small and new that didn't have a bunch of nasty emotional baggage to clean out. The realtor had talked me into looking at this house since it was priced to sell. The little old lady that had owned it was frail and had moved out of state to live with her granddaughter and they wanted it sold right away. When I walked in I knew I would have paid twice what they were asking.

I found out later that the house had been owned by the family for three generations. The old lady had been the only one left in the area. The rest of the family had drifted, most had ended up in Colorado. I don't know what kind of people this family were but I would have given my spleen to have grown up in that house with a family like that. The damn place oozed warm-fuzzies. The gentle love and affection of decades had soaked into the wood and plaster. Even after I'd scoured and bleached it still lingered. It was the most calm and soothing place I'd ever known, even better than the dental office. After the closing, I'd called the old woman and thanked her and promised I'd take good care of her home. She was a little taken aback but thanked me. I'd sent them pictures of the renovations as they were completed. She seemed very happy and told me she hoped someday I could raise a family there. I hadn't even laughed at her. She was too fucking sweet. She still sends me cards on Christmas.

I was rinsing our plates as I finished the saga that was my awesome house. Guy was smiling contentedly. "So, the house feels good? So, you're psychic?"

I looked at him stupidly. "They didn't tell you what I was when I came out to work with Chrissy?"

He snorted. "Hell no. I was just there to babysit you."

"Nice." I rolled my eyes. "Psychic is a broad and pretty loosely used term. Empath would be more technically correct."

"Empath." He seemed to roll the word on his tongue. "So you sense other people's emotions."

"Yup." I tugged the fridge open. "Beer or pussy drink?" I asked him.

He grinned. "I'm secure in my masculinity."

"I just bet you are," I leered. "Strawberry limeade it is."

I got him his drink, as well as one for myself, and wandered back to sit in the living room.

Guy sat across from me on the couch and pulled my feet into his lap. "So what's it like?"

I sighed and let my head fall back. "Truthfully? It fucking sucks." I immediately felt like a whiny bitch. I tried to sound a little more upbeat as I went on. "Usually, when I'm not home I do what I can to dampen it down. I have a little bag of herbs I carry that mute things. There are some lotions that help too." I didn't tell him that pain was the quickest way to banish unwelcome vibes. I figured that would go over like a dead pelican. Besides, that shit was private. "The dental office is the best though. Everything is extremely clean, which helps. The gloves, mask, and coat are a very effective barrier. If I'm at work I can't sense much unless the person is a good projector or I'm touching them. Even then things aren't as bad."

"So that's what you meant about being numb at work," Guy said thoughtfully. "So what's it like when you don't have any of that stuff. If you're not at work and you don't have your bag of herbs or your lotion?"

I thought a moment about how to explain it. "Imagine you're in a room. There aren't any windows open and the ventilation isn't great." He nodded and seemed willing to play along, so I continued. "Now imagine there's one of those old ladies from church in there, one of the ones that bathe in perfume. It stinks up the whole room and sticks to everything. Even if you're standing across the room you know she's there and it shoves up your nose. Maybe it gives you a headache or sets off your allergies making your sinuses swell.

"Emotion is like that perfume. If I'm in a room with someone, what they're feeling just kind of wafts off them." I wiggled my fingers in the air. "The stronger the emotion, the harder it hits me. Some are pleasant." I wrinkled my nose. "Some are like being trapped in a room with a rank hobo just off a two-week bender."

Guy looked way too fascinated for me to be comfortable. I looked into my drink and swished the ice around.

"And it sticks to me, too. Like, have you ever had one of those ladies hug you and you smell like their perfume all day until you change your clothes and shower? It doesn't happen with everyone or every emotion, but sometimes they stick to me until I change my clothes and wash up. It sticks to my clothes too, I have to wash them really well to get it blank for the next time I wear it." I took a sour swig of my drink. "I don't own anything that's dry-clean only."

Guy rubbed the sole of my foot and I murmured appreciatively. If he gave good foot-rubs I would definitely be tempted to keep him for more than a convenient lay.

"That sounds like a pain in the ass." He said gently.

I blew a quick raspberry at him. "Of course it is. I'm sure being a werewolf can be a pain in the ass too." I wiggled my feet, trying to encourage him to keep rubbing.

He shrugged and started on my other foot. Ah, success.

"I guess." He said. "I don't really think about it. It's how it's always been." He seemed to think of something. "What you did with Christina wasn't just sensing her emotions. I talked to a guardian that had worked with her, trying to get her to speak. Christina was locked up tight in her own head and her nonverbal reactions suggested she was really ripped up inside." Guy winced. "Now it's clear why. God, what a terrible thing to happen to a kid."

I stiffened and he looked at me questioningly. I ignored his look and spoke. "Yeah, I can do a few more complicated things with my empathy. People can get stuck in their own emotions and experiences. Usually, it's unpleasant stuff, sometimes it's good things. Most people deal with their inner struggles fine. Sometimes, there's too much going on and things get all tangled up inside them. Then it's like all the bad shit rubs on each other and just makes a fricking mess. It makes it difficult, sometimes impossible, for people to work through their problems or deal with new ones. How bad it is depends on the tangle. Everyone I've ever touched has had a tangle of some kind, it seems to be a price of living." I shrugged. "My sister had some bad shit go down when she was thirteen. She was kind of a mess." I blinked hard, pushing back the memory of hearing Rosalind crying and begging to sleep in my bed with me because she was afraid to be alone at night, afraid of her dreams or something worse than dreams. "I figured out I could untangle her. Her nightmares stopped and she started getting better."

Guy burned with the desire to understand what had happened to my sister, but he bit it back, which was good. That shit was private and he might have been a psychologist, but he wasn't my psychologist so he could eat it. I generally did my best to stay as far as I possibly could from anyone in the field of psychology, I had a history with them I didn't much appreciate or trust. What the hell was I doing within a mile of this guy? Christ, I was a doofus.

I shifted into a more comfortable position and poked him in the tummy with a toe. "Your turn. Tell me about being a werewolf and a guardian." Might as well see what kind of trouble I could expect.

He looked surprised. "Oh, well. There's not a lot to tell. What don't you know?"

"Pretend I don't know hardly anything." It was pretty close to the truth. I didn't know much beyond the obvious that they turned into wolves and were organized into packs. Oh, and that they thought I smelled fabulous, which was fucking creepy.

"Oh, okay." He smirked. "Werewolf 101, then?"

It was my turn to give the encouraging nods, and he started talking. Guy was good at explaining things simply and clearly. I already knew that silver didn't agree with them from talking to Guy at the office for his consult. I found out that werewolves are born, not made. It didn't matter how much a werewolf bit someone, they wouldn't turn furry. Packs were a tightly controlled hierarchy with the alpha at the top. In the US, packs usually weren't competitive, although sometimes there were a few southern packs that would stir up shit with each other. Movement between packs was common, especially when looking for a mate.

"You have to be accepted by the beta or alpha to move into a new pack's region. It's almost always set up in advance by the pack you're moving from. If you move permanently to a new pack you have to take loyalty oaths, they're very serious. You still have loyalty to your last pack, but the new pack comes first."

"Have you done that here?" I asked.

"Not yet." He shook his head. "I haven't been here long enough" He grinned at me. "Although, there's this guy I met who's making me think I'll want to stick around permanently."

I looked away from him and felt my cheeks burn. I fucking hated blushing. Guy just grinned and kept talking about wolfy stuff. He talked a little about his job. It sounded like being an overactive social worker or therapist crossed with a cop. They also sometimes carried out punishments when required. The guardians were important to keep a pack happy and under control. Guy was assigned cases or responded to calls received by their special dispatcher. His eyes were lively as he spoke and I felt his dedication and love for his work.

He told me more about life as a werewolf. I have a feeling my mouth was hanging open when he explained a lot of their women chose to give birth as a wolf with a pack midwife, since labor and delivery were much easier that way. Pack kids were homeschooled until they were ten. Guy explained that it took that long to learn to control their changes and to hide what they were.

"Why hide, though?" I asked him. "You're stronger than humans, so why worry about hiding it?"

"We're not that much stronger." Guy scowled. "I can't pick up a truck and throw it or leap tall buildings. We're stronger and faster, yeah. Our eyesight is a little better, but not by a lot. Our sense of smell and hearing is much better. But we still can die pretty easily. Even a non-silver bullet in our head or heart will kill us before we can heal it, and how long do you think it would take for them to put two and two together and start using silver? Humans don't have fangs and claws, they have guns."

Guy shook his head sadly. "When we're kids learning about hiding our abilities, they tell us about a pack in Europe a long time ago that was part of a tight-knit community. The son of a human leader in the village was best friends with the alpha's son. The human kid got himself in trouble on a hunting trip and the pack boy changed and saved his life in front of several other humans. At first, everything was fine. The humans seemed to accept the pack boy. The rest of the wolves decided to out themselves.

"It was a terrible mistake. Slowly, distrust and paranoia grew. After a year the humans turned on the pack. There were so many more humans than pack. The stronger wolves were bound in silver chains then decapitated. The young and weak were stabbed to death with silver knives. Only a few escaped and survived."

Guy blinked and sighed softly, pulling himself out of the story and turning to me. His eyes were sad. "That's not the only time something like that's happened. So, we teach our pups to never ever show themselves, not even if it's life or death for a human. They find another way to help, or they let that human die."

"Jesus," I muttered. "You guys are fucking serious about your 'don't ask, don't tell' policy."

"The punishments for doing things that could reveal us are pretty severe and strictly enforced," he commented gravely.

"Enforced by guardians?" I asked.

He nodded. "Sometimes. It depends on how bad it is."

I sat up a little. "Wait, if it's such a big no-no to let humans know about you then why are they letting you blab to me? Are you going to get in trouble for this?" Guy might be a bit of a pain, but I didn't want anybody stringing him up by his toes or some crazy shit.

He looked at me blankly for a minute, then his eyebrows went up. "Uh, no. It's not a problem for me to tell you."

I was getting more confused by the moment. "And if it's so taboo, then why was I ever approached for empath work by werewolves? I've done jobs for three separate packs maybe a dozen times. They always contacted me and clearly identified that they were werewolves and what pack they represented. It surprised the fuck out of me to find out you guys were even real." I shook my head. "No one ever even threatened me in dramatic mafioso fashion that I should keep my trap shut about your existence."

Guy looked distinctly uncomfortable. I gave him serious eyes. "What?" I demanded.

He rubbed his neck with one hand. "Well, it's ok for you to know about us."

"And that's because?" I spoke slowly and clearly, like one would with the stupid or insane.

"Because," his eyes slid to the side, "they don't consider you human."

I stared at him for a moment. He looked so serious, he seemed worried I was going to take this tidbit badly. His shock was palpable when I couldn't hold back an embarrassingly unmanly giggle.

"Well, I guess now I don't have to worry about you being shocked by my secret nipple tentacles. So, um, do I get a non-human membership card?" I fought a snicker. "Are there dues? Will I get a decal for my car?" I snorted in an undignified manner and then tried to settle myself down. "Seriously, though, if I'm not human then what am I?"

Guy cocked his head to the side. "What do your parents identify as?"

I rolled my eyes. Well, shit, this complicated things. I bounced up off the couch and snagged a framed photo off the dining room wall. I plopped next to Guy and handed it to him.

"This is my family." I pointed to a petite dark-haired ebony-eyed woman with big eyes and a bigger smile. "That's my mom. She identifies as Mexican-American but calls herself Mexican or Hispanic." I pointed to a broad-shouldered man with his arm around my mom. He had toffee-colored skin and close-clipped hair. His eyes were a striking grayish-green. "This is my dad. He identified as Czech and African-American but he usually just called himself black." I pointed to a little girl with long curly black pigtails. Her grin was so wide her eyes were squinting, showing a large gap where her upper front teeth were missing. "This is my sister, Rosalind." I looked closer. "I think she was about six in this picture. Anyway, she identifies as queen of all she surveys. I call her my bossy little sister." I pointed to the boy that was holding Rosalind in his lap while my parents stood happily behind him. He had skin that was conspicuously pale next to the other three and sandy brown hair. "And that's me."

"So, you're..." Guy seemed to stumble over what to say.

"That's right, I'm Black-Mexican," I told him seriously. "I doubt you'll ever introduce me to your parents, but if you do, I hope they aren't racist." I couldn't help but grin at his dumbfounded expression. It was kinda cute, really. "And, I'm adopted."

I took the picture from his hands and touched the glass. "I got dumped at a hospital when I was around two." I was a little shocked I was telling him this. But, I'd started so I'd finish. "Someone buckled me up right and tight in one of those little umbrella strollers and left me near the ER entrance. I guess I wasn't in great shape. My mom was working in the pediatric unit and she helped take care of me. Apparently, she was the only one I would calm down for." I glanced at Guy. He looked horrified. I chuckled. "I was always crying or freaking out unless she was nearby. They eventually just let me follow her around as long as she wasn't seeing contagious patients. There are pictures somewhere of me wandering around behind her holding onto the back of her scrub shirt." Guy still looked horrified. I poked him gently with the tip of a finger. "This is where you say 'Awwww, how cute.' At least that's what the Aunts say when Mom cracks out the photo-albums every holiday and shows that picture."

My attempts at levity seemed to be lost on Guy. I sighed and continued. "Anyway, Mom even stayed with me on her days off. The state finally designated me as abandoned or some such bullshit, like I was a lost dog or something," I scowled and set the picture in my lap, "and decided to send me to foster care. I was all healed up and not dehydrated or malnourished or anything anymore."

From the grimace on Guy's face, I should have left my need for food and fluids out of the story. I was bad at this. His pity was suffocating, I scooted a little away from him.

"Mom and Dad were told a few years before then that they couldn't have kids anyway, so they tried to adopt me. I don't know if it was because Mom had been my nurse or because they were racist bastards, but the state said no and I went off to foster care."

Guy looked suspiciously like he was going to tear up or something. I ignored it and forged ahead.

"It was only a month or two until I was back in pediatrics at the hospital again. They called it 'failure to thrive'." I made little quotes with my fingers. "After that, Mom and Dad lawyered-up and ended up adopting me. A year after that, they made liars out of the doctors that told them they couldn't conceive and had my sister." I made a 'Ta-Dah' motion with my hands. "And that is the very long answer. The short answer would have been, I have no fucking clue."

I jumped when Guy suddenly swallowed me in a hug. Christ, he was a glomper. There was a fierce protectiveness swirled in with the pity, I bit the inside of my cheek hard. The sharp pain let me push Guy's emotions back so it was easier to breathe.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

I patted him awkwardly. "It's ok. I don't even remember, and I got really great parents out of it. You don't have to look like I shot your puppy." I was relieved when he relaxed a little. "So, if I'm really not human what am I?" I wondered.

Guy sat back and shrugged. "I'm not sure. There's not really a set nomenclature." He seemed to think for a moment. "Most groups identify themselves, like my people identify as werewolves. Usually, others go along with what a group identifies themselves as, but not always. Sometimes we're called shifters and lumped together with others that have more than one form like selkies or encantado." At my puzzled look, he elaborated. "Selkies have a human form and a seal form. They are cute as hell. Encantado shift from human to dolphins or snakes.

"There are a few names that are pretty commonly accepted though. Groups who look just like humans but have abilities or other things that are very different than human are usually generally defined as 'paranormal'. That’s where most would put you. Groups that are further from human are 'supernatural'. That's me. Groups that are more rare or legendary are 'mythical', think unicorns and dragons. The mythicals are usually pretty powerful, too. I've met a few while working for the pack and some are pretty intimidating. I met a Naga that was very nice, though. The griffin she was with was less friendly." Guy grimaced dramatically, making me laugh. "A lot of paranormals call humans 'mundanes'. Maybe because the para's always look human so they feel weird dissociating themselves completely from being human." Guy shrugged. "That's a theory, anyway."

I mulled it over. "So, I'm not human. I'm a paranormal. Specifically, empath, if I were to define myself." I thought this should be more distressing but it wasn't. I always felt separate from the other people around me, which is ridiculous considering how much of others I always sucked inside myself. "Okay. Thanks for the info."

"That's it?" Guy choked.

"What?"

"I tell you you're not human and your response is 'Okay, thanks for the info'?"

"Would you like me to freak out?" I asked him archly.

"God, no," he answered quickly. "I'm just worried that you’re freaking out inside your own head or that you’re repressing your feelings and will freak out later when I'm not here."

I would really have liked Guy better if he weren't such a fucking shrink.

"I'm fine," I said, a little more coldly than I'd intended. I tried to lighten the blow. "I'm sure my sister will be totally unsurprised. She's been telling me for years that I'm a weirdo."

That pulled a smile out of Guy. Good, I didn't like him all serious and pitying.

He leaned into me. "I like you weird."

I laughed. "Oh, yeah. I bet you like it weird. You're probably a kinky toe-sucker or something."

His hands slid up my arms and pulled me closer. "I'd like to suck something." His hazel eyes swirled and burned as his lust washed over me. "But it's not your toes."

And just that fast, we quickly moved from pitying-Guy to horny-Guy. It was kind of a rush.

His mouth caught mine, rough and hot. I groaned as his lust hit mine and I stiffened in my pajama pants. The loose cotton didn't hide much. I felt Guy grin against my lips as my erection poked him in the side. He shifted, flicking the button of his jeans open and tugging down the zipper to expose his own cloth-covered hard-on. It was fucking unfair he could do that so easily when earlier I was thinking about taking a crowbar to that button. His body covered mine, his hips dropping to grind his crotch against my own. I grabbed his waist to keep him tight against me, thrusting myself against him. His hard cock slipped through the slit in his boxers and I gasped as I felt it rub against my covered hard-on, then under my shirt to touch my stomach. I felt a slick trail of precum left behind as he pulled back then pushed against me again.

Guy grabbed the waistband of my PJ pants and tugged. "Off," he growled.

I lifted my hips, but he didn't back off, rubbing himself against me as he fought my pants to my knees where I was able to kick them off the rest of the way myself. His hot hard length slid against mine. I gasped and arched against him. Even though I have one of my own to play with, I'm always amazed at how velvety soft the skin of a penis can be. Guy's was no exception, that velvet-smooth skin rubbed against mine, hotter than me but just as flint-hard underneath. I smiled wide as Guy pushed up on his hands so we could look down our bodies to watch our friendly sword fight. Damn, looking made me harder, our two rods stiff and sliding against each other. We both were leaking precum, our lengths sliding, rubbing. I glanced up into Guy's face. He was looking down, eyes rapt. His lips were parted slightly as he panted. His eyes were dilated and his face flushed. Christ, he was beautiful. My balls tightened and I couldn't hold back a moan. Guy's eyes flicked to mine, one side of his mouth lifted in a knowing smirk. He balanced on one hand and lifted the other to my mouth.

He put two fingers to my lips. "Suck."

I opened for him and laved and nipped his fingertips before sucking them into my mouth. I teased my tongue against his skin and sucked like it was another part of his anatomy. His eyes burned green and he thrust harder against my cock. I did the same for two more fingers and his thumb, then gave his palm a long wet lick.

He dropped his slicked hand between us and caught our hard lengths.

"Fuck!" I bucked under him.

His hands were big, his long fingers were able to wrap around us most of the way. He had no trouble holding us together as we slid through the half-circle of his hand. He started to jack up and down our thrusting lengths. My head lolled and my eyes rolled up.

"Fuck, Guy!" Muscles low in my abdomen tightened. "If you want to get a chance to suck anything, you'd better fucking stop that or I'm gonna shoot."

"Don't wanna." He panted and nipped my neck. "Wanna make you come like this. I want you to come with my cock fucking against yours." His voice was rough and strained as he jacked us harder and faster. "Want to come all over you and mix your cum with mine."

I gripped his shoulders, my fingers digging in. I think I was breathing too shallow and too fast, my vision was graying out at the edges.

"Guy!" I shouted as my balls drew up tight and my back arched violently.

I shot hard, first across my chest, then my stomach and over Guy's jerking fist. His movements stuttered then resumed rougher than before, making me cry out. Guy's fist squeezed us tight and his load joined mine as Guy grunted and gasped above me. I lay boneless beneath him, with barely enough energy to force my eyes to blink open. Guy's head was down, his hair hanging shaggy around his face as he breathed hard. I released my grip on his shoulders to tug his mouth down to mine. The kiss was soft and sweet, even with our hot breaths still trying to catch up. I tugged again, pulling him down to lay on top of me. He was big, I couldn't breathe. Breathing is overrated, fuck breathing. I needed to feel his weight on me. I was smearing our come all over our clothes. I gave a rat's ass about that too. I just wrapped my arms around Guy and let him squish me. I don't know if I was turning blue or if Guy wasn't comfortable in that position, but eventually, he pulled back. He took me with him, and we ended up with Guy on his back and me tucked up against him.

Once I was capable of speech I laughed. "Jesus, Guy, we never even got any of your clothes off."

He lifted his head then let it drop back again. "Tomorrow," he said, pulling me closer and nuzzling my hair. "We can get our clothes off when I come back tomorrow."

Fuck.

Guy was not my fucking boyfriend. We were not fucking dating.

Godammit.


End file.
